


One More Midnight

by amyfortuna



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-05
Updated: 2002-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is late. Elrond is impatient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Midnight

They laugh, down in the valley below. My folk tend to be more merry than is proper, at times, especially during the midsummer feasts. I have just sent the child of Men, Estel my foster-son, to his bed, though he pleaded with me to stay up later.

"I have passed the age of twelve," he told me, eyes wide in the firelight. "Surely I should gain some reward!"

I could not help but laugh. "Twelve, my child," I answered him, "is but the blink of an eye to the Elven-kind. You must learn patience."

"Patience?" he asked. "I can be patient, if I am assured that reward will come."

"In due time, Estel," I said, and he scampered off to bed.

But I am nothing near patient. I am eager, trembling, waiting for you. My hands quiver as I place them on the carven railing, and I shiver, though the night air is not cold.

You said you would come to me, Legolas, riding swift out of the North like one of your own arrows speeding from the bow.

A breeze rises, tangling my hair as I watch for the light of your presence. Light spray from the waterfalls dances across my face, reminding me of the feather-light touch of your lips.

After Celebrian, I thought I would never love again. I grieved when she passed Oversea, for then I knew that there was no rest for her in even Valinor, that she would finally walk into Mandos' halls to find peace. The pain and grief she endured was great, and it is only because she loved me that she refused to let go of her body, hoping that she could find peace in my arms.

Alas that it was not so. She lives in memory only, and the joy that we had will never fade.

Yet her memory and joy does not prevent me from finding new joy and making new memories. For we of the Eldar must do so, lest we dwell forever on ancient memories, and at last become invisible to waking eyes, being forever caught up in what was, not what is.

So I have found you, and my hands reached out toward you, desiring to meet yours in the dark. I wait here on the porch of Imladris, eyes seeking in the darkness for the light of you.

Wherever you are, I know that your eyes look up at the same stars I gaze upon. Though I must wait one more midnight yet for your touch on my skin, I too can learn patience.

I bow my head and turn away from the railing. The laughter of my folk still rings out in the valley.

I wait, but not with trembling hands. Time will bring you to me, and though it may be many more midnights before we touch, the joy of our meeting will be no less sweet.

I wait, and I learn patience from your delay.


End file.
